


a stroke of lightning

by PinkHydrangea



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Mutual Pining, Politics, Post-Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright, There's some subtle saigero here and there but not enough for me to give it a tag i guess, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-20 15:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkHydrangea/pseuds/PinkHydrangea
Summary: After the end of the war, Ryoma and Scarlet head back to their respective countries, yet find that they care for one another too much to be separated. But with Ryoma's new role as king, and Scarlet's commitment to liberating her country, the two are unable to cross the sea to meet one another.Letters will have to do, they suppose.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> buries head in my hands i could've like done some homework but instead i wrote the first chapter for this... listen i just really love ryolet and wanted to like. do some post-birthright stuff i guess. where like. they pine for one another. because we all know that's the good stuff.  
> anyway yah this is just like a prologue chapter. with like. ryoma actually getting to cheve and meeting scarlet and she probably almost beheads him because he's suspicious. they're in love and i love them and why didn't they have support convos?? wtf IntSys you can't make it this blatantly mutual and then not do it.

Ryoma’s voice is hoarse from yelling for his brother, and he’s so distracted by his own yelling that he doesn’t catch the Nohrian soldier in time. A lance pushes into his shoulder, but Kagero slices the man’s throat from behind before it’s shoved in deep. The wound still gushes blood, however, and his arm spasms to the point where he nearly drops Raijinto. She covers him while he catches his breath and tries to regain control of his muscles, and watching her is as fascinating as ever– she slices with her blade as though she’s doing something as simple as cutting vegetables in the kitchen.

Ryoma looks beyond Kagero, and he still cannot see Takumi. He doesn’t even see Oboro or Hinata. His heart is racing, and his shoulder keeps bleeding profusely. He feels woozy, dizzy, but still holds on to his sword and shouts for his brother. The brief thought that he got too close to the canyon and fell invades his mind, but he shoves it away. His little brother is too smart to get that close. He must be somewhere.

But still, he cannot see him. His throat is closing up in panic.

He stumbles forward suddenly, his mind becoming weaker as the blood flows out, and Kagero catches him. She hoists him up, all but carrying him with only one arm–“We’re retreating!,” she shouts– and brandishes shuriken in her free hand. He does his best to walk, but his legs feel as strong as Sakura’s favorite gelatin desserts, and he has no choice but to let Kagero support him.

Other soldiers of his are covering them, slicing through Nohrians easily, and Kagero guides the two of them through the carnage. She waits patiently for him to step over a body, then continues to pull him along. She’s covered in his blood, and it’s probably making it hard to hold on to him, but Kagero is as stubborn as a mule and doesn’t let him go.

A Nohrian soldier, howling a battle cry, rushes through the wall of soldiers and towards them, but all it takes is a swing from Raijinto, a burst of lightning, and the soldier is no more than a pile of charcoal. His shoulder bleeds even more heavily, and his vision blurs.

Kagero guides him over the body and towards the cover of trees in the distance, away from the violence.

Ryoma doesn’t see Takumi.

* * *

 

Kagero gets them to a port town called Hakodate after two days of walking. Ryoma’s shoulder stopped bleeding quickly after she tended to it, once they were out of the range of the battle, but it’s still wounded. Swollen, infected, and he can’t bear to turn his head and look at it. Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t have the energy to do so.

Kagero sets her cold hand against his forehead right before they walk into the town. “You have a fever. We need to rest.”

Still leaning heavily against her, Ryoma lets her guide him through the backends of the city, away from the main streets and the prying eyes of gossips. In a port town that trades with places like Nestra and Notre Sagesse, it wouldn’t do to have anyone see the high prince of Hoshido bleeding all over his retainer.

“This is a safe house,” Kagero says as she fiddles with the lock of a simple, tiny, wooden shack. “Yukimura showed it to me, when I was a child. We can rest here while you recover from your fever, my lord.”

There is nothing in the safe house, except for a chest that Kagero produces some basic first-aid supplies from. She helps him sit, leans him against wall, and begins to peel his clothes away from his shoulder to get at his wound. She is obviously not pleased by the condition it’s in, when she unwraps the bandages. She reapplies clean ones after rubbing some ointment on it, and then goes back to the chest. Out of it, she pulls out a pair of simple clothes.

“I’m going to go to the local pharmacy. The first-aid kit I hid here doesn’t have anything for fever,” she says.

“I see,” he mumbles, and he turns his head away while she undresses. He stares at the ground, watching her bloody uniform pile up as she abandons her arm guards, her shirt, her sandles. When he looks at her again, she’s dressed in a simple yukata and pulling her hair back. Kagero looks different with her hair pulled out of her face. It's her best disguise, Ryoma thinks, and it always has been.

Kagero returns a couple of hours later with bags of food and medicine, and their waterskins refilled. She helps him eat, drink, and then even helps him take the medicine. It’s embarrassing, being taken care of like a child, but he’s too grateful to really complain.

While putting together a makeshift bed for him, Kagero says, “Lord Takumi’s army is supposed to be coming this way in a few days. I sent a messenger bird while I was out, requesting a scout come by and give us a report. Let’s focus on getting you all better before they come.”

She spends days sitting over him while he flickers in and out of his fever-haze, curing his shoulder of its infection, rubbing a cloth over his head to keep his fever down, feeding him medicine and food, and he thinks, through the fog in his head, that he really should give Kagero a raise.

By the time the scout finds them, his shoulder is infection-free, its swelling has gone down, and he can roll his shoulder around and hold Raijinto comfortably again. His fever is also down considerably, and he no longer feels as though he’s fighting through a fog whenever he’s awake.

The scout is a willowy archer from Takumi’s battalion, just like Kagero said she would be. Kagero offers her tea, as though she’s a hostess treating her guest, and not like she’s an overworked ninja trying to keep her prince alive in a tiny wooden shack. She’s always been particular like that. She’s picked up many of her mannerisms from his mother, Ryoma thinks, and it briefly causes him to feel nostalgic for her.

The scout takes the tea gratefully and kneels in front of Ryoma. He tries to sit straight and look princely, but from the way her eyes flicker over him, he knows he looks like a disaster.

“Before you start,” he says, “have you seen my brother?”

She sets her tea down after taking a long sip and purses her lips. “Afraid not. We haven’t seen Hinata or Oboro either, so we assume they took him from the battlefield, just like Lady Kagero did with you.”

Ryoma knows that that probably isn’t the case. Takumi wouldn’t leave a battlefield while there was still a fight to be won, but he hopes against hope and tells himself that his little brother is safe.

“In any case,” the scout says, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, “Hoshido is still secure. Any incursions by the Nohrian military have all been put to a stop. They’re pressing relentlessly, however, and it’s only a matter of time before the border is breached again.

Kagero kneels at his side, watching him closely for any sign of discomfort. Ryoma hums and folds his arms. His shoulder twinges, but he ignores it. “I see. Hopefully, we can invade Nohr and put a stop to this before they get inside the country. Gods only know what they would do to the border villages.”

The scout picks up her tea and swirls it around the shoddy cup. “More importantly, we’ve gotten news regarding the Nohrian territory of Cheve.”

The name Cheve always sends a strong chill down his spine, but he fights it. Kagero sets a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, and he tries not to see the image of his father’s corpse, riddled with arrows, in his mind.

“Cheve?” he repeats. “What’s happening in Cheve?”

“A rebellion against Nohrian occupation,” she says. “Cheve has been Nohrian territory for the past century, and it seems it hasn’t been all rainbows-and-kittens. There’s been a rebellion going on for about two years, I’ve gathered, and it’s starting to really heat up with the start of the war.”

“Cheve is filled with talented knights,” Kagero adds in. “It’s likely that they’re putting up a solid fight.”

“So I hear,” the scout confirms. “Their leader’s name is Scarlet. Most of the country is rallying behind them, apparently.” She stands, drains her cup of the tea, and bows after handing it back to Kagero. “That’s the end of my report, Prince Ryoma.”

Ryoma excuses her, and Kagero escorts her out of their safe house. When she comes back, she kneels next to him again and unwraps his bandages for another check-up.

“Kagero,” he says. “What do you make of the Chevois resistance?”

His retainer finishes studying the remnants of his wound and wrapping it up again before responding. “It seems like it has the potential to be a powerful force. My father often told me that the knight companies of Cheve aren’t soldiers that should be taken lightly.”

“We should be grateful for their rebellion,” he muses. “It could have been bad if Nohr set them upon us.”

Kagero starts putting her bandages and ointments back into their box, but she eyes him warily as she does so. “What are you thinking of, Lord Ryoma?”

Ryoma rolls his shoulder, satisfied that the twinges are fading with each movement, and says, “I think I should go there.”

“Absurd,” Kagero says. “What will you gain?”

“More information on Nohr, possibly,” he says. “And allies in the Chevois resistance.”

“What do we offer as incentive?” Kagero asks. “If we defeat Nohr, we promise them our assistance in getting them their liberation?”

“That’s the idea,” Ryoma responds.

Kagero hums uncertainly. “Cheve is a landlocked Nohrian territory that must be entered from Nestra. Forgive me for saying, but I don’t think you can just waltz in past the border guards.”

“I will be stealthy,” he argues. “I’ll sneak in. Use a fake name and a disguise.”

She looks amused. “Forgive me once more, but stealth has never been your strong suit.”

They argue back and forth for at least two days, and finally, when he’s back to complete health and Kagero cannot force him down any longer, she relents. It’s mostly because she has to, he knows that, but Ryoma will take whatever victory he can get.

She secures basic supplies for him: Food, water, medicine. She also manages to find him passage on a cargo boat headed to Nestra. It’s not luxurious travel, and he’ll have to sleep in the hold, but it’s the only ship headed there any time soon, and time is of the essence.

“You’re certain you don’t want me with you, my lord?” Kagero presses once more. They’re standing in front of the boat, about to leave, and still she is trying to convince him.

“I need you to go back, find Hinoka or Yukimura, and tell them the plan, Kagero,” he insists. “You would be extraordinarily useful in getting me into Cheve, but it’s more important that the main army is kept updated. Besides, Saizo was already upset when I left him behind. I would feel guilty if I continued to leave him out of the loop.”

Kagero hides a smile by ducking her head. “Saizo is always upset, regardless.”

Ryoma finds it in himself to smile. “I know you are still fond of him.”

She puts her hands behind her back and looks away. “Of course I am. Saizo is a dear friend.”

It’s unusual to hear any ninja speak in such a way, and especially Kagero. Seeing her let her hair down, especially at such a moment, refreshes Ryoma. “I hope you remember that you are Saizo’s only friend. I need you to keep him in check. You’ve proven over these years that you’re the only one who can.”

For a moment, he thinks she might look flustered, but a merchant passes, tells him the boat is leaving, and she’s professional and straight-faced again. She hands him his traveling bag, his disguised sword, and urges him aboard the boat, promising one last time to relay his plan to his siblings.

The journey to Nestra is three weeks by boat, the merchants tell him. Ryoma settles against a crate in the cargo hold and closes his eyes.

* * *

 

As the journey comes towards its close, Ryoma pays one of the merchants aboard the ship, around his build, for a set of his Nohrian-style clothing. The merchant is clearly a little puzzled, but the handful of gold is enough persuasion, and he even shows Ryoma how to put them with no further questions.

“You’re looking to blend in, ain’t you?” another merchant comments over that night’s dinner.

“I’d like to, yes,” Ryoma responds.

“You ought to know, then, that it’s real uncommon for Nohrian men to have long hair like yours,” says the captain of the ship. “You’d get around easier without it. One of our crewmen is a barber– he’ll take it off for you, if you want.”

It’s incredibly distressing to Ryoma. The very thought of cutting his hair makes him a bit anxious. He’s grown it out since childhood, and he is, quite literally, very attached to it. But there are more important things at stake than his appearance and good looks, so he lets the portly man take a knife and pair of scissors to it.

When the merchant is done and marveling at the amount of hair on the floor, Ryoma is shocked at how light he feels. His hair is cut clean, close to his ears, and he runs a hand through it. He barely recognizes himself in the mirror he’s handed, and he wonders if even Hinoka or Sakura would recognize him this way, in Nohrian clothes and with his hair cut so short. He’s satisfied with it, however. He might not look completely western, but there is likely no one in the world who could recognize him as the high prince of Hoshido.

* * *

 

They land in Nestra two days later, and it’s incredibly dark and a bit chilly, even though it’s the late afternoon in the middle of summer. The merchants aboard the ship laugh when he makes such an exclamation to them, and say, “Nestra’s a vacation spot, lad! It’s delightful, compared to Nohr.”

Ryoma doesn’t look forward to the possibility of being in Nohr during the winter.

He pays them for the journey, and then a little extra for a map and some more food, and then he makes for Cheve territory. Nestra is a smaller country, he remembers from his geography lessons as a child. It would take him perhaps two weeks to cross it on foot, assuming he made minimal stops, but a passing caravan picks him up and lets him ride, for a price.

The caravan gets him to the Chevois border in only a few days, and they hide him well underneath blankets, straw, and pillows while the border guards search for anything suspicious in their carts. They allow the group on their way after a couple of hours, and Ryoma thanks every ounce of luck that he has as they roll into Cheve. He thanks the caravan owners profusely as well when they stop in the first city on the road, and pays them.

“You’ll reach the Chevois capital in a day or two on foot,” one of the owners tells him as she pockets the gold. Her husband brings him a sack of bread and dried fruits for the road while she speaks. “Cheve is a very small territory, and its capital is close to the border. If you’re looking to avoid Nohrian soldiers, laddie, avoid the cities. There are backroads that’ll get you there just as easily.”

It’s an exhausting trip, despite the shortness of it. Cheve is even colder than Nestra was, it’s rockier, and it’s dark for longer. Ryoma is shocked to find, however, that the sun does come out for a few hours a day, even though it’s much dimmer than the sun in the eastern lands. He’d been raised on the idea that all Nohrian territories were cursed with unrelenting darkness, but the appearance of the sun gives him hope, in a weird way.

The Chevois capital is a large city of around 250,000 people, Kagero had told him while they planned his route. It’s called Lyon, and it’s made for defense. The Chevois knight companies built heavy walls around it centuries before, and it’s nearly impossible to enter unless you’re allowed through, or, in Nohr’s case, you force your way in.

Kagero had not been lying to him, Ryoma finds as he stands outside the city. It’s the middle of the night and it’s pitch black, but he can still tell that the walls are massive, stretching high above any human height, and the material doesn’t look like it’ll break, even with a blow from Raijinto. Furthermore, he can see the glint of eyes atop the wall, watching him silently, attempting to decide if he’s a threat. He decides to call it a night when he notices an archer aiming at him from his right, patiently waiting for him to make a wrong move. He’ll try entering in the morning, a much less suspicious time, and he’ll think of a good story to feed the resistance in the meantime.

There’s a lake not far from the walls of Lyon, with a good stretch of meadow that he can sleep in. It’s far from comfortable, nothing compared to his plush futon and down pillows back at Shirasagi, but Ryoma has never been particularly fussy, and he’s been away from luxury for a few months now. He finds a particularly soft patch of grass at the base of a tree, sets down his things, and eases himself down against the trunk with a groan. His legs are stiff and aching from his long journey.

He falls asleep after deciding that his name will be Sora, he’s a soldier from Izumo, and that he’s been inspired by the news of the Chevois resistance. He’s come to ally himself with them and offer support. It’s not the strongest story, but it’s not a bad one, either, and Cheve and Izumo have always been friendly with one another.

He awakens some time later to the sound of a wyvern roaring.

Ryoma has only ever heard a wyvern roaring on the battlefield, and it startles him. His blood pumps and his hands fumble frantically through the grass for Raijinto. He starts to calculate how long it will take for the wyvern and its rider to be upon him, and he knows he has to be armed before then if he wants to stand a chance.

Thirty seconds pass before he finally finds the hilt of Raijinto in the dark, but he’s woken up enough to process that the roar of the wyvern isn’t ferocious at all, and that it isn’t even in the skies. It’s racing along through the meadow, making happy sounds, and it almost looks like a massive, brutish, scaley dog as it flops into the lake and splashes around. Its wings send up waves the height of Ryoma, and he nervously hides behind the tree.

The shape of a person comes rushing behind the wyvern, and Ryoma puts his hand on his sword’s hilt. The outline of the body is distinctly feminine, he can tell from his distance, and the sound of the voice as it calls out, “Mavis, easy!” helps him conclude that the wyvern’s rider is most likely a young lady.

Ryoma watches cautiously as the rider splashes out into the lake to follow her wyvern, her arms reaching up to grab it around the neck.

“It’s been awhile since we got to play in the water, but keep quiet! Never know if there’s Nohrians lurking around, you know?” she tells the beast.

The wyvern makes a sound that’s exasperated and beats a single wing, whacking its rider on the back and nearly sending her sprawling.

“Don’t talk back to me! And don’t hit me with your wing, either. You know it hurts!”

The wyvern hits her with its wing again, and Ryoma chokes back a laugh at the string of curses the rider lets out.

Not even a second later, there’s the tip of something sharp at the back of his neck, a woman’s voice saying, “Do not move, sir,” and the pounding of enough footsteps that Ryoma knows that he’s been surrounded by no small number of people.

The ruckus alerts the woman in the water, and her head snaps towards them.

A suspicious man hiding in the field outside the capital city, the home of the rebellion, with a massive katana on him, no less. He’s sure it doesn’t look good, and wonders if they’ll allow him to explain himself before trying to execute him.

“Drop the sword. Get on your knees,” the woman behind him says, and Ryoma does as he is told.

The woman from the lake and her wyvern are stalking towards him, but are stopped by a man wielding an axe. He gesticulates wildly towards Ryoma and the group of his captives, and his stomach falls as she takes the axe from him.

“The lady is kind at heart,” the woman behind him says. “Be honest and do not touch that sword, and you may get out of this alive, spy.”

They think he’s a Nohrian spy. These are not Nohrians, but likely the resistance.

Ryoma cannot even say “I-” before the woman pokes the tip of her weapon against his neck hard enough to break the skin and says, “Quiet now.”

The wyvern rider is in front of him now, and he still cannot see her clearly in the dark, but he can see her outline even more clearly. She doesn’t look particularly intimidating in the long, soaked red dress she wears, but the hard muscle on her arms and the axe slung over her shoulder fix that.

The lake water drips off of her and splashes onto his face as he stares up at her. His throat is dry, and he can’t stop eying the sharp edge of her battle axe.

“Nohrian spy?” she asks the woman behind him. Her voice is hard and short, compared to how she spoke to her mount while they played in the lake.

“No,” he answers before the woman behind him can say anything. “Who are you?”

The woman turns her gaze back down to him and scrutinizes him. Her grip on her axe is firm and ready, but she makes no move that indicates that she’s about to swing it down and lop off his head. She looks back up at the woman behind him. 

“Got your sash on ya, Mannon?” she asks.

“Yes.”

They’re going to either strangle him or blindfold him, and he speaks up again, “If you let me explain myself, I can-”

Silk loops over his head to cover his eyes, and something heavy slams into the back of his neck.

Ryoma passes out.

* * *

 

He wakes up for the second time that night, except instead of laying in a nice, plush field of grass and flowers, he’s tied to a chair in the center of a dark, bare room with bars on the windows. Two soldiers with their hands tight on their lances flank the door, and they eye him coldly.

Sitting across from him is the wyvern rider from the lake. She looks even more intimidating now, dressed in ornate crimson riding gear, and especially with her axe resting against her chair.

She’s cute, despite how intimidating she is, Ryoma notes. Her face is round and there’s a splash of freckles across her cheeks. Her hair is short and messy, a fair blond, and her eyes are warm brown. Her full lips are crooked into an easy smile, and while Ryoma wouldn’t describe her as a traditional beauty like Kagero, she has a soft, rustic look that he finds charming. He finds all that, and the fact that she doesn’t look as murderous as she did at the lake, very calming.

Her eyes flick over him and she leans in a bit. “Definitely Hoshidan.”

Ryoma scrunches his nose at her, miffed that his haircut and change of clothing hasn’t at least made her doubt his origins a little bit.

She cracks a broad grin. “Think if you dress in some Nohrian clothes, you can pass for a Nohrian? That’s kinda cute! You should know, your features give it all away.”

Ryoma stays silent, subtly pulling at the rope binding his wrists behind the chair. It’s strong, and he has no hopes of breaking it through sheer strength, so he stops and decides to be a good guest. The wyvern rider shows no signs of hostility, so neither will he. He sits straight and makes eye contact and pretends that he’s in a court meeting, staring down a noble who has pressed their luck too far. He always wins battles of wills like that, and this shouldn’t be any different.

The woman stands, but leaves her axe where it is. She clearly doesn’t find him a threat, and he thinks that’s a good thing. He doesn’t want to antagonize the locals here. He wants to join them. Fit in with them.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed that you’ve been captured by the Chevois rebellion, at this point,” she says. Her hands are on her hips and she’s smirking down at him. “You may suck at being subtle or whatever, but you don’t look stupid.”

“I wasn’t trying to be stealthy,” Ryoma protests.

“You were spying on me,” she points out.

“I wasn’t spying on you!” he exclaims. “I was just sleeping there, and you happened to show up. I’m sorry for what it looks like, but it was a coincidence.”

She quirks an eyebrow. She’s expressive, and he thinks it’s another charm point of hers. “Are you sure you weren’t waiting for me to take my clothes off or something? You sure you weren’t waiting for a cute girl like me to frolick in the lake, practically nude, with her wyvern?”

It’s bait. It’s so  _ obviously _ bait, a way for her to tease him, and he  _ knows _ that, especially given the light-hearted way she smiles, but he sputters and tries to defend himself anyway. She laughs and waves a hand as he protests.

“You’re easy to tease, too! Definitely not a spy. You seem okay.” She sits back in her chair, still ignoring her axe. “I’m real sorry about what happened back there, honestly. I just wanted Mannon to blindfold you, but she’s pretty excessive.”

Ryoma finally takes not of the throbbing on the back of his head, and decides that he doesn’t really like Mannon, whoever she is. “It’s fine. I apologize for looking suspicious. It’s my fault.”

Her eyes warm up and she her smile softens a smidge. “I’m Scarlet,” she tells him.

The guards at the door look at each other nervously.

“Should you tell him that?” asks one.

“It’s sort of sensitive information, you know,” says the other.

“He’s fine,” Scarlet tells them, and she doesn’t take her eyes off of Ryoma while she says it. They’re warm, friendly, full of mirth and joy. “I can tell.”

“Scarlet,” he repeats, finding that he enjoys the name more than he did when he heard it come out of the scout’s mouth. “Are you the Scarlet who leads the rebellion?”

“The one and only,” she says. “Who are you?”

“Ryoma,” he says before he remembers he’s supposed to be Sora, and he bites his tongue.

“You named after the high prince?” she asks.

He swallows. “Yes. I was born not long after him. My parents thought it would bring me good luck, I suppose.”

“That’s neat!” she says with a genuine smile. “So, what’s a Hoshidan doing all the way out here? I mean, it’s not a short journey, and it ain’t cheap either.”

He reworks his story a bit, deciding to tell some truth, some lie. “I’m a high-ranking officer in the Hoshidan military. A scout told me about the rebellion here, and my commander sent to me to solidify an alliance between you and Hoshido, if it pleases you.”

Scarlet leans back in her chair, swinging up one leg to lay over the other. “That so?”

“Is is,” he says. “Hoshido has always been against Nohr’s terrible treatment of its territories. The high prince wants to offer you your independence, in the event that we win.”

She looks interested, based on the tilt of her head, the gleam in her eye, and the way she starts leaning in. “Really? They’d do that for us?”

“I promise,” he tells her, leaning in to meet her at the middle.

She smirks. “ _ You _ promise?”

“I, ah, promise that the high prince promises. That’s what I meant. He’s my direct commander, you see. All of what I say comes straight from him.”

Kagero was right. Ryoma is terrible at stealth. He’s terrible at lying, at hiding, at disguises and everything else. He just hopes his good luck pulls him through this, and that she’s not able to see through his clumsy lies.

Their noses are nearly touching, their bangs are pushed up together, and he can smell the sweetness of her breath. He can practically hear his heart beating in his ears as he waits for a response, and the deafening silence is broken as Scarlet laughs again and throws herself back into her chair. The two soldiers at the door look more nervous than ever, but also more relaxed than they did when he’d woken up.

“I like you,” Scarlet says, and it doesn’t sound like the sort of “I like you” that Ryoma is used to hearing from courtesans. It’s not “I like you” as in “I’m buttering you up. Offer me more land,” or anything like that.

Scarlet says “I like you” as in “I like you.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and then he thanks her as she walks behind him and starts cutting carefully at the ropes with a pocket knife. He’d been so caught up in speaking with her that he’d honestly forgotten he was bound.

“You got any cool Hoshidan military formations or anything?” she asks as she saws through the bindings. “Nohr’s starting to get used to ours. We could use the advice.”

“I can think of one or two,” Ryoma tells her, but he’s actually thinking of ten of his particular favorites.

“Let’s discuss it over dinner,” she says. “Ever had Chevois food?”

“Never in my life.”

“It’s to die for. Let’s get you cleaned up, Ryoma.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCHOOL IS OVER and here's the second chapter, voila they're in love and i love them

Scarlet is waiting for Ryoma at the bottom of the stairs, her face rounded in a massive smile. She is nearly impossible to recognize in her long red gown, a stark contrast from her riding uniform, but the crimson is her signature color. Ryoma knew her on sight, the moment she walked into the courtyard for the coronation.

He leaves Hinoka and the rest to converse with Princess Camilla and Prince Leo, and walks down the stairway, heading past at least a dozen courtesans waiting to speak with him. Kagero whisks by with Orochi a few times as he descends, shooing them out of his path, and finally, he stops in front of Scarlet. He’s unsure of what she’ll say, what she’ll think of him in his formal wear, but he hopes she thinks that it’s good.

She looks him up and down and places a hand on her chin. “A king.”

He smiles and reaches up, pulling at the collar of his coat. “I am.”

“Impressive,” she says. “You sure didn’t come off as a prince or a king when you let me boss you around back in Cheve.”

He laughs and puts an arm over her shoulder, guiding her through the plaza. The statue of his mother smiles down at them, and it puts his coronation-nerves at ease. Scarlet does wonders for them as well. “I admit, getting ordered around was actually nice for a change. You really did put me in my place a few times.”

Scarlet winces. “I hope you know I never would’ve treated you the way I did if I’d known that, you know, you were Hoshidan royalty.”

He guides her around a group of people that are admittedly rather tipsy and stumbling into one another. The plaza is filled to the brim with people, commoners and nobles alike, and as many are there to pray at the statue of Mikoto as they are to see his coronation. Abundant amounts of people don't bother Ryoma, except for when they all get smashed and start causing inconveniences. He hopes that they all hold off on the alcohol.

“I’m no different because I'm a king,” he tells Scarlet. “I just dress a little fancier.”

She bursts into a smile again. “You always did talk kinda weird. Real proper and all. Very prince-y. Maybe I should have suspected something.”

He laughs at that and ignores Saizo’s intense gaze on them. An ally Scarlet may have proved herself, but Saizo trusted hardly anyone, ally or not.

“I'll buy you some food,” he says, guiding her deeper into the street, where people make a respectful amount of space for him. “I have to make another speech soon, so we’ll have to make it quick.”

Scarlet selects a pile of baked meats from a vendor and digs into them as he shows her around, pointing to various buildings visible through the stalls.

“Any reason the castle is so tall?” she asks. She offers him a stick of meat and he takes it politely.

“It's intended to stretch up towards the dwelling of the Dawn Dragon and other gods,” he explains. “The Nohrian castle, Windmire, is just the opposite, remember?”

She rips a chunk of chicken from its leg with little tact, and Ryoma swears he sees an older noblewoman nearly faint at the lack of ladylike ways. “Stretched down towards the Dusk, yeah? We don't hear a lot about that kind of stuff in Cheve.”

“Not a religious area?”

“Not that. We’re just far enough away from any sort of castle or big, fancy church that we don't get a lot of sermons or religiously-themed history lessons.”

“I see.” He crosses his arms behind his back as they continue to wander through the crowds. It almost feels the way it did, back when they went to the market in Cheve together, and he feels a pang of nostalgia.

They stop in front of a vendor selling sweets, and Ryoma buys a package for them.

“What's your first decree as king gonna be?” Scarlet asks as he presents the box to her.

Ryoma furrows his brow and takes his time easing the lid of the box off. While Scarlet marvels at the appearance of the sweets, he says, “Reform on the border, including cleaning out remaining Faceless, flushing out bandits, and rebuilding areas that suffered when Nohrian forces invaded. We owe the citizens there much for their troubles and loss.”

Scarlet picks a sweet out of the box, a delicate looking one made with pink jelly, but keeps looking at him. “And then?”

He fishes a sweet out of the box for himself. “And then, as soon as I’m certain that things are moving along there, I’ll ensure that Cheve is rewarded for their assistance. We’ll do our best to get you out from under Nohr’s colonization, as I promised we would.”

She holds the sweet up to the light, clearly marveling the color and shape of it, but remembers herself and looks at him seriously once more. “In all honesty, I don't think that things will be as bad, now that Garon is dead. Rule was harsh before his time, but it was his ascension to the throne that made it truly unbearable. But, even if the next ruler is better, Nohrian rule is Nohrian rule.”

“And you refuse to stand for it?” he asks her.

She narrows her eyes. “My people will never be oppressed under any sort of rule again. Not while I’m alive.”

Scarlet is possibly the noblest person that Ryoma has ever met, and he smiles at her.

“What do you think of the sweet?” he asks her.

She looks down at the bright treat in her hand, surprised, as though she has forgotten about it. He waits while Scarlet pops the jelly in her mouth and laughs when she makes a face. Hoshidan sweets, he’s found, are rarely to the taste of people from the west. Scarlet, despite her traces of Hoshidan blood, seems to be no exception. She swallows thickly and tries, without much success, to mask her disdain.

“Different,” she says. “It’s different.”

Ryoma keeps laughing at her, and a bright flush spreads over her face.

“Not the same as chocolate cake, is it?” he teases, and then scrunches his own nose. “How do you westerners stomach that? It’s like dumping sugar straight down your throat. Completely unpleasant. If Saizo caught even a whiff of that, I’m sure he’d have a heart attack.”

“Better than this weird, mushy stuff,” Scarlet mumbles, and she plucks an anko ball from the sweet box, looking almost horrified. “What even is this?”

“Bean paste,” he tells her, and he chokes back another laugh at her disgust.

“ _ Bean _ ?” she echoes, and she drops it back into its place. “Ugh.”

Ryoma finishes off a few more sweets for them, and then gives the rest to Sakura when he passes her by Mother’s statue. There are people staring at Scarlet as they mill through the clearing, obviously put off by her fair skin and hair, and not much time passes before she begins to notice.

“I should go soon,” she tells Ryoma as they stop beneath a tree. “Mavis has been really revving to get back home, and I think I’m making people uncomfortable.”

As if to accentuate her point, a couple of men passing by give Scarlet a long, hard stare before hurrying along.

Ryoma watches them go before looking down at Scarlet. “You’re my personal guest and good friend, Scarlet. If you make a few people uncomfortable, it’s no matter.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “While I would like to lounge around and spend some more time with you in your fancy castle, I really have to get home.”

“You’re going to start restructuring the knight companies, correct?” he asks.

“Sure am. Hoping to even make my own. We’ll need them, in case Nohr decides they don’t want to leave Chevois soil.”

“Hoshido will be there whenever you need us,” he ensures, and then he remembers something. “You said you wanted to spend some more time with me?”

Scarlet scratches her cheek and looks to the ground. “Yeah, uh, I guess.”

“I’m afraid that’s going to be hard, since we’ll be a good distance away from each other,” he says, and there’s a quick pang in his chest.  He reaches into the pocket of his robe and pulls out a bundle of paper, wrapped tightly within a neat bow tied by Kagero, and offers it to her. “We can write letters, however.”

Her big brown eyes regard the parcel for a moment, and then she reaches for it. Their fingers brush as she takes the paper. “Letters, huh?”

“I don’t exaggerate when I say that you’re quite possibly the closest friend I’ve ever had,” he says.

Scarlet lifts a brow. “Your siblings?”

“We’re close for certain, but not in the way you and I are. I can’t speak to them as I do with you.”

“Saizo? Kagero?”

“Saizo is much too professional to call himself my friend. Kagero is dear to me, but suffers from the same problem.” Ryoma pushes the paper towards her, deeper into her grasp, his face heating up. “Please, write me. After the months we spent together, I– I feel I will be unbearably lonely if I can’t communicate with you.”

Scarlet holds the parchment in both hands and smiles up at him. “I will. I’d be lonely without’cha too, you know? My friends back home treat me like too much of a superior now. They don’t talk to me the way they used to.”

The feeling is one Ryoma knows, and he sympathizes with her. He has always been High Prince Ryoma, and now King Ryoma. Not ever someone’s equal to speak casually with. Not ever someone’s friend.

“That’s my own personal parchment. It’ll allow any messenger passage through the border, and give access to the castle so they can deliver it,” he explains.

Scarlet furrows her brow. “I guess just write ‘to Scarlet’ on your letters. That should work for me.”

“‘To Scarlet,’ then.” 

Scarlet pockets the parchment and Ryoma reaches for her hand. She gives it a firm shake and grins at him.

When he watches her take off on Mavis later that evening, he already feels unbearably sad.

* * *

 

Manon takes her traveling cloak and purses her lips at Scarlet’s appearance. Rain had begun to pour the last fifteen miles of the journey, and she is soaked to the bone, her hair stuck up and flattened all of her head, and she’s trembling like a newborn deer in the middle of the wyvern stables. The lightning and thunder continue to crash outside, and she’s not looking forward to leaving.

“Welcome back,” her attendant says. “Care for a hot bath?”

“Wouldn’t mind at all,” Scarlet responds. “Did you get a place while I was gone?”

“A family friend is letting me live in their home. I asked before, and they said they wouldn’t mind if you slept in my room until you found your own lodging.”

It's likely, Scarlet knows, that someone has moved into her old home from before the rebellion started. A room in a building right in the market, its convenient placing was always the object of other people's envy.

“I was thinking about just crashing at the old hideout,” Scarlet tells Manon.

The other woman unfurls an umbrella and holds it over them as they exit the stables. Mavis lets out a sound that Scarlet recognizes as “goodbye!,” and she turns to give a final wave to her wyvern for the evening.

“The hideout is majorly trashed,” Manon says. “The Nohrian army really did a number on it. I wouldn't sleep there, if I were you.”

Scarlet scrunches her face up and trudges through the streets behind her. “I guess I’ll have to impose on you until I find somewhere, then.”

“No problem,” Manon assures. “It’ll be easier for us to coordinate the rebuilding of the Chevois knight companies if we live in the same room. Just make sure you pay your share of the rent, and don't leave your sweaty clothes on the floor.”

Scarlet finds herself, within the hour, longing to be back at the Hoshidan castle with Ryoma.

* * *

 

A month later, and Ryoma feels like he's ready to jump into a volcano and be put out of his misery.

He groans as light floods his quarters, the  _ shing! _ of the drapes being drawn apart grating on his ears. Gentle hands fall on his shoulders and shake him a little, and Kagero’s voice, soft but firm, tells him, “Time to wake up, Lord Ryoma.”

He sits up as she pulls away, screwing up his eyes against the light. It's much too bright for early morning, so he asks, “Kagero, what time is it?”

She looks a little apologetic as she says, “Almost noon, my lord.” She holds out a hand as he frantically whips the covers off of himself. “We all decided to let you sleep in. Your siblings have been handling what they can, and Saizo has been keeping some of the courtesans occupied for the time being.”

Ryoma flops back into the futon with a groan, covering his face. “Oh, gods, did I really seem that exhausted?”

“Not ‘seemed,’” she says. “You  _ were _ exhausted. Your mother sometimes needed a day to sleep in every now and then, too. No shame in it, my lord.”

She gets up and crosses the room to his closet, rummaging through and laying out an outfit for the day. Another sigh escapes him and he sits up again, dragging a hand through his short hair.

“It's starting to grow back a little, isn't it?” Kagero comments. “I was shocked when I found that you had cut it. You are fond of your hair, after all.”

“The men on the boat told me that long hair on men is uncommon in Nohr territories. It had to go, but hopefully, it'll grow out quickly.”

“I always brushed it for you in the mornings,” she says with a smile. “What shall I do with myself now?”

Ryoma smiles and gets out of bed, refreshed after sleeping in, and lets Kagero help him into his clothes.

“Have I received any letters?” he asks her.

“You’re waiting from a letter from the Chevois woman, yes?”

He perks up and looks over his shoulder at her while she fixes his obi. “Has one arrived?”

“Not yet. I suspect she only got back to Cheve a week or so ago, given the travel time. Have patience, my lord. I feel she is certain to write.”

Ryoma sits down that night and pens his own letter. There’s really no point in waiting for her to write first.

* * *

 

The old officers of the companies are wary when Scarlet first asks them to band their knights together again, and she doesn’t blame them; Nohr still occupies Cheve, even if the army has laid off, and the old knight captains and many of the soldiers themselves were met with slaughter in the past when Garon came to rule. They warm up to the idea, however, when she tells them that they’re supported by Hoshido, and they quickly start rebuilding themselves with shaky confidence.

She goes back to being a blacksmith, earning coin by coin that will help her develop her own company, hopefully soon. She’s always saved up the money her parents left her, and with hard work, her goal doesn’t feel that far away. She has many of her officers and soldiers from the resistance supporting her, pooling their own funds and offering to help in any way they can, eager to get the company going.

“Why not just ask the Hoshidan king for some funds?” Manon asks one evening, hovering behind Scarlet while she writes at their desk. “He’s fond of you. I’m sure he’d cough it up.”

Scarlet’s eyes wander to the corner of the desk, landing upon a dried flower–a keepsake, the corpse of the first flower that Ryoma had given her. It had been an awkward attempt at getting her to warm up to him, and she found the gesture so endearing that she’d kept it. He hadn’t even known that it meant “eternal love,” and she is saving that little tidbit for the perfect moment to tease him.

The flower is more than just that, though. It’s a comfort to her, a reminder that Ryoma was real and her friend.

“I don’t wanna solicit money from the king of Hoshido,” she snaps back. “I ain’t that desperate.”

Manon shrugs and goes back to combing her dark red hair. “Are you writing to him now?”

She is indeed, and it feels weird to write so casually on such fine paper. Even as the commanding officer of the resistance, the paper she used to deliver memos and messages wasn’t so… fancy.

“You were always close, from the second he got here. You two were practically inseparable,” she says, and then grimaces. “I didn’t like him.”

Scarlet looks over her shoulder and grins. “Jealous that he got all my attention?”

“Not in the faintest. I just didn’t like him. He was too tall.”

Scarlet goes back to writing her letter, setting the finished fifth page of writing off to the side in a neat stack with the rest.

* * *

 

Ryoma has a ribbon that Scarlet gave him, an “accessory” for his sword. She’d complained that the hilt was too boring, not flashy enough, and had tied it on secretly while he slept one night. It is a pretty thing, he has to admit, a vivid blue like the one she wears in her hair, embellished with gold and lined with blue.

He finds himself holding that ribbon a lot lately. He unwraps it from Raijinto at night, holds it, and stares at it. In all honesty, he’s not really sure why he does it, but it comforts him, makes him feel at ease. When he’s done staring at it aimlessly, he ties it back onto the hilt and goes to sleep.

* * *

 

Scarlet waits for a long time for Ryoma’s letter. She takes Mavis and flies to the closest post office near the border of Nestra nearly every day, and every time, they tell her that there’s nothing for her yet.

She’s distracted throughout the day, Manon tells her, and it’s no good for a blacksmith to be distracted. She’s right, of course: Her lances are coming out a little crooked, her candle holders a little oval. Her customers are too loyal to leave, but definitely not happy.

She can’t get Ryoma out of her mind, and she holds the dried flower cupped in her hands every night until Manon scolds her for being so silly.

* * *

 

Scarlet’s letter finally arrives in the evening, exactly six weeks since he last saw her in person. It’s Saizo that brings him the letter, clearly disapproving of Ryoma interacting with who is technically a Nohrian, but Ryoma doesn’t exactly care what Saizo thinks in this matter.

He retires to his room for the night, the letter held almost reverently in his hand, and he sits at his desk to open it with an excitement he hasn’t felt in a long time.

* * *

 

Ryoma’s letter comes to Scarlet in the middle of the day, while she’s banging the dents out of a breastplate. Manon delivers it when she comes to bring Scarlet’s lunch, and she peers at her grumpily when she snatches it out of her hand.

She finishes the breastplate, her hands shaking with such excitement that she can barely finish smoothing out the metal, and settles down with a loaf of bread in one hand and the letter in the other.

* * *

 

Scarlet’s handwriting is wide, but neat, and Ryoma enjoys reading it. Her words sometimes run together, an indication that she got excited while she wrote, and it’s charming to him.

She writes about her ride home, how it took her two days longer than normal because she took a job ridding the border of some Faceless, and that her last few hours of flying, she was positively doused with rain.

She writes about how the resistance base is wrecked after the Nohrian army found it, after they fled it together, and that she’s living in a room with Manon while she gets enough money together to start up her own company and find a home of her own.

(Ryoma pauses reading the letter here and squeezes the bridge of his nose, a headache coming on at the very thought of Manon. His first impression of her, where she had blindfolded him and then whacked him on the back of his head with her bow, hadn’t been very good. And as Scarlet’s lieutenant, she’d never stopped treating him with contempt and suspicion. Needless to say, he and Manon had not gotten along.)

She writes about how she’s taken up her job as a blacksmith again to earn money, and that with the inheritance her parents have left her, she’s almost ready to start her own knight company. The other three have started to rebuild themselves, wary of the Nohrian occupation still, but slowly regaining their courage and enlisting soldiers once more.

Perhaps most troubling, Scarlet writes about how there’s no leadership in Cheve at the moment. The previous duke of the territory was murdered by Nohrians, she writes, when Scarlet was about ten-years-old, and the rest of his family met the same fate. The country has been held together under the rule of the Nohrian army, but now that Nohr has a looser grip on them, people are starting to look for a new duke or duchess, but none of the influential figures within the country will step up.

Ryoma sets the letter down and watches the candle by his desk flicker. The lack of a leader, especially with Nohr losing its hold on the colony, is definitely an issue. People don’t stay civil without someone to enforce the law for long, and without the knight companies back up to their full capacity, there’s no telling what can happen. He picks up the letter again and reads over the paragraph again, his stomach feeling greatly unsettled.

Beyond that, Scarlet writes of how much she misses him. She has the flower he gave her, settled right on her desk, and she looks at it every night. Being without him after being his constant companion is odd, and she finds herself looking over her shoulder for him frequently. Perhaps, one day, he could visit her, or she could come to see him. Nothing would delight her more than to be with him again, she writes.

The letter is done, just like that.

Ryoma settles back, crossing his legs and giving his knees a break, and holds the letter as though it’s the most precious thing in the world. Right now, as he looks at her handwriting and words, it probably is.

* * *

 

Scarlet it getting smudges of ash and junk on Ryoma’s letter, but she doesn’t care, so long as the words are still legible. She rips into the bread in her hands while she opens up the paper, and she feels excited at seeing his quick, small handwriting, familiar from his messages and reports during his time in Cheve.

Ryoma seems exasperated, and she can practically hear his voice while he writes about his lack of sleep, the long hours spent in his office where he deals with paper after paper, public request after public request. He writes about being particularly irked about the unreasonable demands of courtesans, who are testing the waters with this new ruler.

He writes that his siblings are doing their best to help, but that there’s only so much they can do when people insist on only speaking with the king. Takumi is settling into his role as an advisor even better than Ryoma expected, and that he’s essentially a godsend when it comes to needing an extra hand around his office.

His reformations on the border are going surprisingly smoothly, Ryoma writes, and it’s taken up most of his time. Hinoka, after being appointed the new general of the military, has been quickly eradicating the remaining Faceless, and Sakura has been infinitely helpful with tending to the wounded and regaining the public’s trust in the monarchy.

Corrin, he continues on, spends much of his time alone or with his retainers. He’s clearly not recovered from the war, nor the deaths of his Nohrian siblings and Azura, and Ryoma worries for him. Scarlet feels a pang of pity for the young prince, and wonders how it must feel to watch the people you love die so gruesomely in front of you.

Ryoma writes about how he still has that silly ribbon Scarlet gave to him, and she smiles and rests her cheek in her hand, remembering how baffled he had been to wake up with something so frivolous tied around the hilt of his only possession. He writes that he’s grown fond of it, and he makes sure that he takes good care of it. It’s the only thing he has with him that was Scarlet’s, and it’s a prized possession.

Scarlet finishes reading the letter, sets it down on her work table, and stops herself from smoothing it out; she doesn’t want to get the nice paper dirty, or smudge any of Ryoma’s heartfelt words. When she picks up the envelope to see if she missed anything, she smiles when she finds “to Scarlet” written in unusually large letters on the back of it.

She holds it against her chest and longs for him so badly that it’s physically painful for her, and she contemplates what the implication of her pain is.

* * *

 

Ryoma holds the letter close to him, his chest aching more intensely than it ever has. He almost feels that if he does not see Scarlet right this instant, his heart will give out, and he’ll keel over and simply die.

* * *

 

Scarlet lies in her makeshift bed, a pile of blankets and a pillow nestled on the ground of her shared room, that night. The letter is still pressed against her chest and she stares blankly up at the ceiling, resigned to what she has come to accept:

She is in love with the Hoshidan king, an untouchable, unattainable man an ocean away.

* * *

 

Ryoma doesn’t sleep that night, even though he desperately needs rest. He holds Scarlet’s ribbon in a hand, and occasionally pulls his face out of his pillow to stare at it, horrified with his realization:

He is in love with Scarlet, a woman that the court will never, ever approve of, a woman who is an ocean away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's the second chapter!! i'll try to have the third out soon, but i just got hired and i'm starting my new job soon, so idk how much time i'll have to write whoops


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